


Happy Birthday Logan!

by thatoneinsecurenerd



Series: Wings [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Puns, Birthday, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Angst, Food, Kid Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Kid Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Kid Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27377623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneinsecurenerd/pseuds/thatoneinsecurenerd
Summary: It’s Logan’s birthday, and as soon as Patton learns this (and the fact that Logan has never had a birthday party before), Patton makes it his mission to throw Logan even the smallest of parties. Logan has no idea what’s coming to him.Takes place in myWingsuniverse, but you don’t need to read the main storyline to understand this.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Wings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727896
Kudos: 5





	Happy Birthday Logan!

**Author's Note:**

> I pulled myself out of writer’s block to write something special for my favorite Side’s birthday. (He can deny it’s his birthday all he’d like, but it is. Happy birthday Logan!)

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday today!” Patton lamented, sounding genuinely upset that he hadn’t known. He was stood in Logan’s office at the law firm, during what could be considered their lunch break. They’d walked down to Remy’s Starbucks down the street, where Logan got himself a coffee and Patton bought himself a pastry and a hot chocolate. It was only once they walked back into the law firm – as one of the lawyers passed by them to get through the doors to the outside – that Patton found out this new fact, for the lawyer had wished Logan a happy birthday in passing. 

“I don’t typically celebrate my birthday,” Logan responded, not seeming as effected by it as Patton – if his gasp was any indication – was. Logan took a seat at his desk. Patton didn’t move to sit across from him, however. Rather, he shifted on the balls of his feet, as if he was debating going right back down the hallway, down the steps, out the door, and back to the Starbucks down the street to buy Logan his own pastry. 

“But it’s your birthday!” Patton replied, finally opting to take the seat across from Logan. “You should do something special for it. I could throw you a birthday party, if you want to come to mine after work.” 

“You’d be ill-equipped to throw me a birthday party so suddenly. Not to mention, it would be difficult to have a birthday party with three small children in your apartment. From what I’ve seen in the few movies I’ve watched, parties are loud and jam-packed with both people and alcoholic beverages.” 

“Have you...” Patton’s voice was soft. He had to pause, as if he truly couldn’t believe the next few words he had to utter, “...never had a birthday party?” 

“Growing up, my parents opted to bake me a cake, on the rare occasion. Typically, they presented me with new literature as ‘gifts.’” 

“But not a birthday party?” Logan shook his head, figuring Patton must have needed the clear confirmation. “Then I’ll throw you one. I’m sure the boss will understand if I take the rest of the day off to prepare.” 

“The workday is only halfway done. That would be inefficient to the firm. Additionally, I imagine your husband may become curious as to your whereabouts, if he does not see you sitting at the front desk. I don’t believe he approves of our friendship.” 

“I can be... friends with... with whoever I want. Yeah. He can’t just- _tell_ me not to be friends with you or... Remy... or Emile...” Patton seemed to shrink in on himself, sink into the chair. 

“Is everything alright, Patton?” Logan’s voice was softer than Patton had ever thought he heard it. Still, he straightened his posture and plastered a shaky smile onto his face. 

“Everything’s fine!” he responded, aiming for happy. To him, however, it sounded phony. _He was_ _such_ _a_ phony _._ _He was such a_ bad friend _, shutting Remy and Emile out for the benefit of his husband, of his sons..._

“If you genuinely would like to throw me a birthday party,” Logan began, returning to their original topic in an attempt to cheer Patton up, “I would not be opposed to a small gathering with you and the boys. A cake for all of us to share and some balloons, perhaps. But you should wait for a few more hours before leaving work, so you can pick up the boys from school then go to the store on the way back to your apartment.” 

“Yeah?” Patton asked, his voice sounding fragile, as he peered at Logan over the frames of his glasses. 

“Yeah,” Logan repeated. “Text me if you have any questions while you are out, and I will answer at my earliest convenience.” Patton nodded his understanding. He stood from the chair. 

“I’ll see you tonight, then.” The smile was back on his face, if a bit weaker than it typically was. “I’ve got a party to plan.” His footsteps out the door didn’t have that typical pep to them. 

Logan knew his birthday was supposed to be about _him_ , but he hoped that this party would make Patton happy. He hoped the boys would enjoy whatever cake Patton picked out for them – because Logan didn’t have a preference. The sweetest thing he ate was probably Crofters. He hoped Ethan wouldn’t return home during their celebration – though that, too, was more for Patton’s benefit than his own. 

*** 

Had Logan been a different person, his stomach might have been swirling with nerves as he walked up to the door of Patton’s apartment. Or, perhaps, he might have been excited for what he would find on the other side of the door. Primarily, however, _he_ was filled with a sense of curiosity. 

He wondered what Patton had managed to put together in a couple hours. He wondered what kind of state the apartment might be in. (Littered with balloons and streamers that might need popping and discarding out back before Ethan was to return home - in case he returned home early for once in some cruel twist of misfortune – for example.) He wondered if the boys had the idea to put a last-minute card together for him – since they were all artistic and creative in their own ways. 

Logan knocked on the door to Patton’s apartment as he found himself doing most evenings, as if nothing was amiss. What was different than usual, however, was that he swore he could hear shushing noises and the sound of footsteps from the other side of the wooden door. And finally, a moment later, it opened. 

Nothing appeared amiss until he took the first step over the threshold. From seemingly out of nowhere, three young boys appeared, two of them yelling “Surprise!” (one with a more sing-song lilt to it) so loud that, were Logan a few decades older, he might’ve felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. Instead, no expression appeared on his face, as if this, too, was completely typical of one of his visits. 

The boys seemed to deflate when they saw they couldn’t coax a smile out of Logan. However, that seemed to be forgotten as Logan stepped his second foot over the threshold then a few more steps into the apartment, so Patton could close the door behind him. 

As Patton did so, the younger two brothers ran off. The older of the three brothers approached Logan hesitantly. 

“Yes, Virgil?” Logan asked kindly, meeting the boy halfway into the living room. The boy gave no verbal reply, instead opening his arms. “You’d like a hug?” The boy shrugged, in a way that expressed “so-so” more than “I don’t know.” 

“I think,” Patton said, speaking on Virgil’s behalf, before stopping with an audible click of his teeth hitting each other. The room filled with silence. A tense silence that was broken as soon as the two younger brothers ran back into the room, almost tripping in their haste, as they both tried to maintain a grip on the piece of paper they held. 

Virgil lowered his arms and stepped back, whatever moment that might have occurred between the shy boy and the seemingly-emotionless man broken. The younger two brothers stopped right in front of Logan and thrust the piece of paper in his direction. 

Logan carefully took it from their hands and looked it over: the words happy birthday written crudely in firetruck red crayon. Beneath the words, a cake that may or may not have been purposefully gruesome looking (given the child that drew it) in army green crayon. Next to the cake, the boys’ names – Roman and Remus – in firetruck red and army green crayon, respectively. Additionally, was Virgil’s name (neater) in purple and Patton’s name (neatest of all) and a colored-in heart in sky blue crayon. 

“Thank you both,” Logan told them. He set it down on the coffee table. “Remind me to take it home with me when I leave tonight.” The younger boys nodded their agreement. “What is next on the agenda?” 

“The a-jean-duh?” Roman asked, not quite pronouncing the word correctly. 

“It means,” Logan explained kindly, “what have the three of you and your father planned for us to do next?” 

“Cake!” the three young boys immediately chorused. Patton smiled fondly, sighing. 

“I guarantee that was _not_ it,” Patton replied. His sons pouted in response, but it was halfhearted. “Next on the agenda was Virgil’s and my own unique gifts for Logan, just like you two, Remus and Roman, made him the wonderful drawing. Virgil?” Patton turned to the boy in question. “Would you like to give Logan your gift now?” The boy nodded hesitantly, his fringe flopping in front of his face. 

Roman and Remus stepped back as Virgil stepped forward, the brothers seeming to switch places in the living room. Again, Virgil held open his arms. This time, Logan understood the implication. The hug was Virgil’s gift to him. Virgil, who was hesitant to let anyone into his space – hesitant to be vulnerable in fear that they might leave him, that their love for him was a lie or only out of obligation – was letting Logan hug him. Was letting Logan _in_. 

Logan took a cautious step forward, giving Virgil the chance to back away. But the young boy did not. With an energy almost rivaling his younger brothers’, Virgil leapt at Logan. Logan made sure to catch him, hoisting the boy up so he could wrap his arms and legs securely around Logan’s body, like a koala to a tree branch. Logan kept a light grip on his body, in case the boy wanted to pull away, but tight enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about falling. 

Finally, Virgil began to squirm in Logan’s grasp, and Logan carefully lowered him to the ground. Finally now did the smallest of smiles grace Logan’s lips. 

This left only Patton’s gift to be received. He shot a warning look to his sons – silently asking them to behave, as if they’d ever given Logan trouble before – before he stepped out of the room. The boys immediately converged and convened in quiet whispers, perhaps discussing Patton’s gift, since they knew Logan wouldn’t listen in on what he assumed to be a private moment. 

It was another moment later that Patton returned to the room, his hands holding something behind his back. Upon noticing him, the two younger boys began to flap their hands and bounce on the balls of their feet in excitement. Virgil eyes trailed Patton, as the man stepped towards Logan, finally pulling the gift out from behind his back when they were only a couple feet apart. 

It was a perfectly square box wrapped in red and green wrapping paper that read “Merry Christmas!” and “Ho-ho-ho!” in white cursive. Upon seeing the gift – as if he hadn’t already known that it existed – Virgil, too, began to flap his hands. Patton watched hopefully as Logan slid his fingers under each strip of tape and slowly eased the tape off the wrapping paper, as to not rip the paper. 

As soon as the wrapping paper was removed, Logan folded it and set it next to the drawing the younger boys had given him. Patton handed him a pair of scissors that almost seemed to materialize from thin air, which Logan used to rip the tape on the box so he could pull the flaps open. 

And then, the flaps were open, and Logan’s eyes were treated to the sight of a jar of raspberry Crofters. And this time, he really, truly smiled. This led the Sanders father and sons to smile, as well. 

“I thought you might like it,” Patton said, almost breathlessly, as if relieved now that he knew that Logan really, _truly_ liked the gift. “It was the last on the shelf, so I’m glad I managed to snag it. I wouldn’t have been able to _bear_ -y it if I’d had to fight someone for it.” Logan groaned. The three boys snickered. 

“You shouldn’t be allowed to make puns on my birthday,” Logan joked, sounding more put off than he actually was. 

“I suppose I should have figured.” Patton sounded sad. And yet, he was fighting a smile. “Puns have never seemed to make you very.... _cherry_.” That one took Logan a moment, he would admit it. Again, he groaned. Virgil had to whisper the joke to his brothers. “Well, son of a peach.” Logan groaned again. “That one didn’t seemed to be anyone’s jam.” 

The three boys were all snickering. Logan rolled his eyes fondly. “Cake?” he proposed, in an attempt to get the puns to stop. The snickering stopped. The three boys looked at their father, eyes swirling with a mix of hopefulness and excitement. 

“Oh, alright,” Patton complied, sounding more put off about stopping punning than he actually was. He led the way into the kitchen, Logan at the very back. “Sit down at the table,” Patton instructed his sons. The boys were quick to do as their father asked. Patton pulled a lighter from the highest cupboard in the kitchen (which necessitated him standing on the kitchen counter) as Logan took what he assumed to be his place before the cake. 

The cake looked simple: a small square with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. In the middle of the cake stuck out a single dark blue and white striped candle. 

Patton stood at Logan’s side as he lit the single candle. He held the lighter as he cued the boys to start singing Happy Birthday. 

Virgil’s voice was soft, almost inaudible. Roman and Remus appeared to be attempting to out-sing one another, while somehow still maintaining the proper pitches. Patton sang with a beaming smile, sneaking glances to Logan out of the corner of his eye. And once the song was completed, Logan leaned forward and blew out the candle to four sets of clapping and two sets of cheering. 

“Alright,” Patton began, already stepping away from Logan’s side, “give me one more moment to put this back and grab the plates and forks, then I’ll serve up the cake.” 

“I can help,” Logan offered, making to follow Patton. 

“Absolutely not,” Patton said, stopping to turn and fix Logan with a pointed look. “Sit down. It’s your birthday.” Logan sighed, relenting. Patton still waited for a moment afterwards, as if to see that Logan would actually listen. As if Logan was another of his children, instead of a fully-grown adult man. 

Patton replaced the lighter in the cupboard, then grabbed the forks, plates, and a cake server/knife. He returned to the dining room and cut and plated the first piece of cake. He slid the plate to Logan, who gave him a soft “thank you,” before taking the first bite. 

Patton served up the rest of the slices of cake, then took a seat at the table. They ate cake like a family. And really, Logan was practically an honorary member. Patton felt he deserved to be celebrated on his special day. 

He’d continue to celebrate Logan on this special day, in a special way, each year to come. 


End file.
